There was a moment’s silence. All that was righteous and hard in Mrs. Collingwood surged to the surface; all that was human in Jack struggled for utterance. She was the first to speak.
“Jack, how can you come to me with such a story?” she said. “You knew already all that I could possibly say, and that without examining into the merits of the case I could not even recommend it. Do you realize what the case is? There are hundreds such, less fortunate, because for them there is no money. It is a bad case, this. The father was rich. If, then, for these hundreds there is no excuse, what excuse is there here? I do not say that the sin is less, if there has been no marriage, because there was no means of supporting possible children, but, if we can weigh anything against that, that is the more excusable. You spoke of him as a ‘very good fellow.’ Have you thought?”
Jack stood quite still during his mother’s speech. A little heightened colour appeared on his face, and his big brown eyes opened a little.
“I have thought,” he said. “Frank was honest, kindly, generous, and he had hot blood. He would always help a friend in trouble: once he helped me. I should always have gone to him if I was in a difficulty. Thus I owe him a debt. Please God, I will repay it. He committed a fault, or sin, what you will. I have made it my business, as far as I humanly can, to repair that. I do not wish that the sins of the father should be visited on the child. I beg your pardon, mother, I have put that in a way that will offend you. Let me put it like this: I want the child to have as good a chance as possible. I thought perhaps you might help me.”
“How could I help you?” said Mrs. Collingwood.
Jack paused. Then:
“I meant to bring up the child myself,” he said. “I should have told you that earlier if you had encouraged me at all. I thought even that you might suggest—no, I scarcely thought it—that the child should live here. I was wrong. I ought never to have come.”
Again there was a silence. Again all that was best and most human in the man burst out:
“Mother,” he said, “do not blame me. There was a bad business—I knew it. I only thought to repair it as far as I could. You do not agree with me. Very well, let us forget it. Why should this, too, come between us?”
His eyes had the glimmer of tears in them, and he took an unresisting hand.